


Dad Bod's a Good Bod.

by Sinbirdy



Series: Multinational Venture Capital Conglomerate [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Atlas CEO Rhys, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Body Worship, Bottom Jack, Finger Sucking, First Time, Good Dad Jack, Groping, Insecurity, Jack Has Issues, M/M, Making Out, Mirror Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Secret Relationship, Self Confidence Issues, Top Rhys (Borderlands), Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 02:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21067334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinbirdy/pseuds/Sinbirdy
Summary: Along with being on the job 24/7, whether it's his company, his baby, or his affair, he's also dealing with prevalent body confidence issues. To Rhys however, his body is amazing...





	Dad Bod's a Good Bod.

People presume Jack is fit. Given how active he proclaimed to be with investors, teaming up with sport sponsors and making sure his social team projected a healthy lifestyle online, it seems only right to presume so. Plus, he's usually jumping from meeting to meeting, jet setting all over the world - how could someone not sport a trim figure when they're bouncing around all the time?

He also wore slim fitting suits every working day, sure to let paparazzi capture all his flattering angles, so everyone saw how trim and lean he seemed.

Truth be told, however, running the Hyperion corporation and raising a rambunctious toddler alone is less running around, and more sitting down all day, dictating others to do the hard grind. Being rich means he has brutes to do his dirty work, geniuses to do his thinking, and now with a business partner, someone _ else _ to run the company. Sure, his PR team makes sure his social looks immaculate and busy, but most days are spent sending emails, making calls, and spending time with his daughter.

Fatherhood is probably the most draining of all his responsibilities, but even then he lucked out with a toddler who will stay quiet as long as he cuddles her somewhere comfortable and watches colourful characters on some kind of electronic. 

Jack lets the world assume he's still a young, buff thug of a technician like he was in his 20s. It's good for his ego as much as his brand. Solid, ripped abs so clean they seemed like a gift from God, and arms built like ancient tree trunks. He used to wear acid wash jeans and tank tops religiously like a stereotypical grease monkey, and would slick his hair back with his sweat alone. That's why people hooked onto him, because he was rough, abrasive, and cunningly intelligent, with a body most weren't used to in business. "_ Handsome _" Jack as they branded him reinvented the business scene. 

Times have changed though. Jack's a dad with a couple thousand people to manage beside his flesh and blood. Gone are the days he brings someone to his bachelor pad to schmooze and shag, knowing the next days meeting will be won on improvisation alone. Now in order to keep things working, he must calculate everything meticulously.

Which results in stress…

Jack's anger as a result of stress will often be repressed and replaced by his local bakery "_ Pandora's Goods _" homemade doughnuts, filled with thick cream and sugar. He doesn't have time to work through his emotions, so the convenience of food helps his time management, and therefore food becomes a constant comfort. Homemade meals are replaced by the microwave or delivery, because standing over a stove after a long day when he knows he needs to give Angel attention is exhausting just to think about. The only time Jack will get good cooked food is if secret lover and business partner, Rhys, stays over. Even then it's usually Rhys cooking while Jack takes a power nap with Angel laying on his chest fast asleep too.

Jack loves his life, but keeping the bodybuilder physique he used to have is impossible when balancing a business, baby, and new relationships. The only consistencies he has anymore are delicious junk food, and his bed.

One day Jack finds he has a relatively free day, and in its rarity, he decides to head home and sleep. After what feels like the best nap of his life with Angel splayed over his chest, hugging her stuffed rabbit and drooling on his shirt, he drearily hauls himself up to put her in her cot. When he returns to his bedroom to finally strip off out of his work clothes, he catches sight of himself in the mirror and stares at the reflection haunting him. Being so busy, it feels like the first time in a _ long _ time, he's actually noticed what he looks like.

Unbuttoning his long shirt and untucking the yellow jumper vest top from his pants, he glares at the extra weight sporting his midriff. His trousers cut into his newly thick hips, and after undoing his button and zipper, he sees his belly hang over his boxers in a way he's never seen before. Jack's known about his weight gain, always reminded when he sucks in to do up his trousers or feels new rolls as he sits down, but looking at himself now, really seeing his body, he notes just how much weight he's really put on. He's been avoiding it for ages, not wanting to admit that the classic "dad bod" had caught him, but his fears are confirmed just by looking at it. His eyes focus in on the pooch that taunts him, and he grunts.

Every image out there for the public of himself is sharp, slim, and desirable. He produces the ideal version of himself, who he was when he first started, and that's all anyone sees. Everyday he layers up, squeezes into a waistcoat, and slim, body hugging trousers, and holds himself up tall so his image cements itself forever. It's crucial the Jack everyone loves to fear stays strong in everyone's eyes. He can't lose that image; it could destroy him.

Standing in front of the mirror, he turns this way and that, trying to find the optical illusion or smoke that accompanies said mirror, but all there is is reality. He pats the jelly belly hanging over his pants and cringes where the fat actually ripples slightly. He hates what he sees, how he feels weakness and a mockery of the power he's worked tirelessly to build...he sees someone unworthy of respect. 

And _ love _.

Jack's struggle with insecurities aren't new - the damn prosthetic mask he wears to cover his deep burn scar is proof of that - but the deep roots of his body insecurities he's ignored are no longer mer shadows in his mind, but fully fledged demons. He's soft, and he hates it, and if _ he _ hates it, then so must--

His mind is pulled elsewhere by the ringing of his phone. He jumps, surprised, and hastily fishes it out if his trousers to answer. He's grateful the ringer didn't disturb Angel.

"_ What? _" He doesn't even bother to look at the caller I.D. When he hears Rhys' amused snort, he groans. "Why are you calling this late? Work days over, go sleep."

"Uh, Jack, it's like 7pm," Jack hates how Rhys' smart-assed tone makes him flush. He rolls his eyes as Rhys continues. "Though since we're on the subject of sleeping, I figured it would be more enjoyable in your bed." 

Jack can hear the smugness in his voice. The annoying, dumb, geeky tone, picturing his fragile but cocky smile, his long, string bean limbs and body - just all that is Rhys, Jack can see like a painting in front of him, and he hates it.

And by hates, he means _ loves _.

He looks back at his reflection and wrinkles his nose. _ This _ Jack with a flabby gut and messy hair is not the Jack Rhys knows, and he has no intentions of introducing him; not when he's just admitted to himself he's out of shape. He's only been dating Rhys for 2 months, after all. Jack's had the imponderable pleasure of seeing his esteemed colleague and ex-rival stripped down to nothing but knee high socks, but Jack's always been covered. Head to toe, fully dressed. Sure, maybe a blazer comes off, or he'll let his trousers fall below his thighs _ at most _, but that's been all so far. He's always played it off like a power move, rather than deep seated insecurities. If Rhys sees the truth that is a lack of washboard abs, he may have to kill him...

And that would be a shame; he's grown rather attached to him. He's rather good a lover, and Jack's never had so much fun just talking without threatening someone with violence. Rhys is good company, and Jack intends to keep it like that.

He starts taking his clothes off fully and throwing them on the bed. "Listen, cupcake, as sweet an ass you have, I've got too much paperwork to work through, so why don't you-"

"You realise we work _ together _, right? I've filed everything already, you're paperwork-free."

Jack curses under his breath.

"Plus my driver just parked up on your road so I'm nearly at your humble abode. No turning me away now." Rhys laughs, amused at himself, completely aloof to Jack's tense silence. 

Jack's heart jumps in his throat suddenly and he panics, hanging up without any kind of goodbye. He suddenly starts grabbing the discarded parts of his suit and haphazardly reorganising his appearance for Rhys' arrival. It's a chaotic mess, buttons missed, fabric creasing, and honestly his anxiety makes it near impossible to shove his bloated belly down into his trousers. He embarrassingly jumps around the spot, grunting like a wounded animal, trying to tuck his excess weight away.

Then he hears the dreaded knock echoing through his penthouse. His heart tastes like coal. Everything is suddenly heavy and tight, he can barely breath. "Uh, Jack? What happened on the phone?" Jack hears Rhys calling through the wood, knocking again. Jack pinches the bridge or his nose and grumbles, making his way out of his bedroom, still fussing over himself.

"Rhysie, baby, I told you I'm busy," Jack says through heavy breaths as he walks toward the front door. He leans against it first before daring to answer, catching his breath. 

"Wow, more pressing issues at hand than fucking me? I'm...I'm hurt-- _ wounded _, in fact." There's a soft chuckle. "Just open the door."

Jack wants to ring his neck with his bare hands so bad. Rhys is such a cocky bastard, in a geek-chic kind of way that didn't at all compliment Jack's ego. Course that energy he has to kill Rhys is equally strong in the feelings he has to smother him in affection, confessing all the damaging insecurities he's losing count of. With how long it took them to get together, how tough it was to admit their feelings, Jack's afraid of losing Rhys to something so superficial and fragile.

He's not buff, bold Handsome Jack with a body hard as metal. He's chubby dad bod Jack, trying to single handedly take care of his daughter and run a company at the same time. He buys takeouts more than recommended because cooking requires effort and greasy meat is a heaven sent after a long day. He yells at workers and strikes fear into investors, and challenges the business world like he always has, and that's who Rhys fell for. Jack wants to give Rhys _ that _ version of himself.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door, scowling at Rhys while attempting to hide himself strategically behind the door. Rhys gives him a cheeky wink before his face lifts with the dopey smile he knows so well. 

(God Jack hates how much he adores him.)

"Look, kitten, I really--" 

"For once I'm going to need you to be quiet." Rhys says, deceptively quiet, and shoves the door open to throw himself at Jack, slamming the door shut with his foot. He pushes him towards the nearest wall and runs his hands through his hair. Jack huff's out against his lips, flailing awkwardly as he tries to catch up with the abrupt lust that's caught him off guard.

Rhys' lips are thin, but soft all the same, and in the rush of heat he's seemingly burning with, he takes on a roll of dominance Jack's never experienced with him before. Pressed up tight against his wall, no room for escape, his lip is caught between Rhys' teeth to bite and draws out a soft groan he doesn't know is there until it's too late, and all there is is heat and Rhys' smug smirk.

"I've been dealing with trainees _ all _ day, which means watching that video you made to put the fear of God in these kids, and all I've been thinking about since is hearing you _ growl _ like you did in the video." Rhys' eyes are lidded with a dusty seduction, nearly hypnotising Jack, and before he knows it, the younger man is assaulting his neck, sucking and biting feverishly while grinding against him. As he feels Rhys move to the dip of his neck just above his collar bone, he promptly melts into affection and instinctively moves with Rhys, following his lead and holding his hips close. A fever blinds him as he focuses on the sublime friction of Rhys' concealed cock grinding against his own...

Until he feels Rhys' hands fall to his ass, kicking his brain to work at double time in a boisterous panic. "Wo--woah! Rhysie, baby, you gotta slow your roll there." He manages to pull back. He laughs to lighten the mood as Rhys stares at him with a puzzled expression. "Angel's fast asleep in the other room."

Rhys raises a brow. "That has never stopped you before." He chuckles, and tugs at Jack's collar. "Come _ on _, I'm horny. Do you know how good you looked in those damn videos? Your jeans were so tight, left little to the imagination." His breath is heavy against Jack's ear, and the heat spreads.

Jack loves how eager Rhys gets. He's usually so dorky - stuttering and making dumb jokes, trying to be smooth - that when he's riled up it's a real shift in tones and gets Jack rock hard in an instant. His twinky boy toy just losing all social queues for the sake of pleasure...

But when Rhys' hand starts falling down his body, alarm bells queue in his head and he goes stiff, quickly pushing Rhys away to protect himself and his shameful secret. As Rhys catches his balance and shrugs at Jack for an answer, he's rewarded with a furious glare. "I said no, kiddo, now control yourself!" He storms off into his bedroom before Rhys can realise what's going on, leaving him riled up and bitterly confused. The humiliation floods Jack's body quickly.

When he gets to his room he softly closes the door and leans against it. Alone, he exhales the boiling shame building in his rips, breaking him. He tugs at the waistband of his trousers. They feel unbearably tight. He's _ desperate _ to get out of them, relax for as long as he can before Angel wakes up, but with Rhys present he has to keep up his image. 

Realistically he knows he doesn't have to care about his image, and he knows (or desperately _ hopes _ ) Rhys doesn't give a shit either. He's _ Handsome Jack _ after all, most powerful man to walk the earth as far as most are concerned, why did it matter that he was packing a few extra pounds? If anyone could make a point and prove it, it was _ him _. Anyone dares to mock him he'd rip their spine out through their mouth!

If only it were so simple though. Insecurities don't make exceptions. They prey on anyone and everyone, regardless of status. Jack's a victim to self loathing just like anyone else, no matter how hard he pretends he's untouchable.

A soft knock pulls him out of his daze. 

"Jack, let me in." Rhys says, low and demanding. Jack can't help but snort at the order, rolling his eyes. 

"Sorry, princess, playtime is _ over _. Now get out of here before I strap you to a Hyperion rocket and send you to the empty vacuum of space." 

He's irritated when he feels the door push against his back slightly.

"Hay, kiddo, quit it, will ya? I've got an _ actual _ baby to look after in my life, I don't need a second one!" 

"Just open the door and talk to me, then!" 

Jack gives in to his annoyance and impatience. Opening up, he's fast to grab Rhys by his shirt front and pull him close intimidatingly.

"I don't know who you think you are but I have half a mind to gut you like a fish for potentially disrupting my kids sleep, so you best--" 

Rhys stops his fury with a passionate kiss, locking him in a hellish make out session that quickly leads to wandering hands. Jack moans in Rhys' mouth, his heart racing with his own terror, that it feels like his bones are falling apart in a torturous earthquake. They stumble backwards and fall onto the bed, where Rhys is quick as lightning to climb on top of Jack.

It's a race of passion, a mess of affection and impatience as Rhys' hand gropes Jack's heavy bulge, getting more and more eager every dawning second. Jack can't resist letting his eyes roll back into his head as he thrusts absentmindedly into his boyfriends hand. All frustration leaves him...

He wants nothing more than to make Rhys whine, watch him shake and cry from overstimulation, and he's so blinded by pleasure he forgets everything else. All that matters is Rhys is palming at his rock hard cock, eager like the slut he is.

"_ Jack _," the way Rhys moans is so delicate but desperate. His fingers dance over the waistband of his trousers. "Jack, I want your dick."

"Yeah I bet you--" The dawning realisation of _ insecurities _fire through him like electricity, "No, wait, kitten, I-" he grabs Rhys' hands before he can unbutton him, eyes wide like saucers. He breathes heavily.

Rhys just stares at him quizzically, equal parts worried and flustered as he unknowingly tries to fix a puzzle he's never seen before. Jack realises then that maybe his hectic display of mysteriousness is a worse image than what he's _ actually _ hiding.

Rhys frowns. He moves to sit beside Jack and crosses his arms. "What the hell is the matter?" 

Jack sits up. "What?!" 

"If I behaved like this when you were horny, you'd tear me apart, so what's going on?" Jack rolls his eyes, though his chest tightens.

Suddenly anything he's ever worried about echoes around his head. Everything he hates and fears - failure, his grandma, scammers, his scar, his daughters growing up to hate him, his mortality - they scream over one another like wolves or feral cats.

He imagines Rhys' face when he sees the truth, his powerful boyfriend having roles and fat instead of rock hard abs, and how disgusted he'll be. The image Jack's tried so hard to cling to, he can see it shattering before him in a way he can't bare. He'd rather lose the fortune around him than the desire that lights up Rhys' beautiful eyes. It burns to think. Losing Rhys feels like fire in his veins.

Years of fighting, proving he's the best, he's quietly terrified that it will all come to a halt because of something as tedious and futile as his weight. He growls and frowns on the outside while panicking inside, because being angry is what he does best.

He swallows everything down and flashes his signature, charming grin. "Kiddo, I'll eat that ass of yours if you're _ that _ horny," Jack half jokes, though fully ready to follow through with all the enthusiasm in the world. What he's rewarded though is a dejected sigh.

"If you have an STD or whatever just tell me now and-"

"Oh woah, woah_ , woah _ there, princess! I've no damn bugs on my cock! Jesus..."

"Well why don't you let me do anything to you?! Do you just not like me enough or something, have I read our relationship wrong or?..."

"No, Rhysie, it's-" he huffs. "It's not you at all, I promise. Believe me when I say I would _ love _ to fuck you..."

He stands and walks across the room, toying with the button of his trousers. He can already hear the rejection mocking him as he slowly undid the button of his trousers, away from Rhys' line of sight, cringing when he feels his gut flood forward with guilty relief.

"But? C'mon Jack, you can tell me."

Jack moves on to unbuttons his waistcoat, then shirt, and takes them off. He takes a deep breath and slips his trousers off before quickly rips off his cosy yellow jumper and stands there before Rhys baring his worst, in nothing but his boxers. Rhys can't see his belly but his heavy love handles are clear as day, as well as his padded ass and thick thighs, and they're all just as bad in Jack's opinion.

His heart races like it needs to escape. He wants to throw up. He feels weak and gross, and those depressed, self-loathsome demons just double down on his anxiety. The silence makes him want to curl up and die. It's embarrassing admitting to weakness. Rhys is going to laugh at him, mock him, call him a pathetic fat slob and ruin his image to take over the business fully. Handsome Jack has weaknesses, he can exploit that for power. He can feed off the demons and rejoice in defeating the once undefeatable.

Jack's still got his back to Rhys...why he thought he deserved a relationship was ridiculous - why after so much work hiding himself would be just willing strip back and reveal the hideous truth? He grumbles under his breath and balls up his fists. His feet are stuck. He can't bare to turn around.

"Jack...uh, do you mind-"

"_ No _." He snaps before even realising his harsh tone.

Rhys sighs. Jack feels the shame like someone's set him alight. Get him a gun, he'll finish the job himself.

However, when he hears the bed creak as Rhys stands, he's surprised to feel hands link around his waist and rest softly on his belly rather than be met by the sound of the door slamming; or a bullet to the head. His face turns bright red when Rhys daringly squeezes his plump belly. Jack's eyes blow wide at the sensation, and his stomach clenches when Rhys moans through a breathy chuckle.

"_ Please _ tell me _ this _ isn't what you were hiding?" Rhys whispers into his ear, giving his belly another playful squeeze to emphasise his point. He's too amused for Jack's liking. 

Jack grinds his teeth. "The fuck does that-" but he's cut off by his own embarrassing high pitch moan. 

Jack looks down as a sharp shudder racks through his body, and sees Rhys tweaking his nipple like he's just the dial of a radio, one hand playing with the hyper sensitive nub, while the other kneads his doughy belly with the utmost love. Jack's near frozen shocked if his arousal didn't hit him with a harsh impact, quick and hard. His face flares up and he works to force a compensating frown that's so severe it's almost painful. He despises how overwhelming it feels to be touched-- how wildly _ feral _ he feels with Rhys' cock pressing against his ass.

Jack's head rolls back involuntarily. He dares to glance over at the smug, absolutely loved up expression on his boyfriend's face as Rhys continues to roll Jack's nipple between his finger and thumb. Rhys tugs daringly, and snickers wickedly when Jack moans, hands quick to cover his mouth. Jack's legs wobble a little. The bedroom mirror is a few steps to the left, so using his horny initiative, Rhys guides him toward it and knocks Jack forward so he catches himself on the frame, hands forced to give up silencing himself. He pants, eyes burning with humiliated rage as he stares Rhys down through the reflection. With the glistening reflection capturing the scene, Rhys can truly admire the lumps and bumps of his boyfriend's body. There he can see properly the bold squish of his belly pooch hanging over his boxers, how it folds with his eager hands and contorts to his will he sees divine stretch marks etched into his skin, and the plump love handles hanging over too.

Rhys can admire how soft Jack's chest is, how supple and luscious his pecs are, watching them bulge between his fingers as he gropes them lovingly. The deception of Jack's clothes impresses Rhys. His boyfriend is more than a _ little _ chubby, contrary to popular belief, but boy, Rhys is beyond turned on.

Jack's head hangs in shame. He can't bare to look at his weight, see the mad lust burnt into his cheeks. He can't bare to see how his flesh squishies in Rhys' hands, even though it feels insanely wonderful to be caressed. He can't bare how _ weak _ he feels, suddenly...and how _ good _ it was.

"Jacky…" Rhys' tone is like cream, coating him, painting him sweet. It's soft against the shell of Jack's ear, warm too, and makes Jack arch his back to compensate for the shiver. "_ Why _ would you hide _ this _ from me?" Rhys slips his long fingers under Jack's cute belly, flicking his fingers to watch the delightful pudge jiggle. He exhales a soft laugh and rubs his thumb over Jack's other nipple, softly kissing softly at Jack's earlobe when he hears a pained whine. "You're so...so..."

"Hmph, handsome?" Jack retorts sarcastically, but Rhys grinds against him hard, approving. 

"No doubts, you are."

Jack's cock throbs with every tender squish to his belly. He hasn't been touched like this in years, too busy raising a kid, running a company - in fact, the last time he had sex he had the soft outline of a 6 pack. _ This _ is new. It's so nice to be loved, so... comfortable.

He's just never been in a position of submission before with a partner. Being riddled with anxieties has silenced his usual all knowing bravado; which is an extreme rarity for a man like Jack. He hates how his body betrays his ego, has him purring and grinding back against Rhys' thick bulge.

Rhys loves it way too much. So much of him to love, to grab, every squeeze further pushing him into a submission that shows a side no one would believe exists. The gentle blush filling Jack's face, spreading to his ears and down his neck, it's all gorgeous.

"You don't need to be scared with me-"

"M'not scared!" Jack grunts through his teeth, eyes wired shut. Rhys laughs, kissing the back of his neck. His other hand slides up to give his ignored nipple some well deserved attention. He's pleasently surprised when Jack stretches his neck stiffly and inhales on a whine. Both Rhys' hands are now filled with the lush thick pecs of Handsome Jack.

"Sorry, not scared...just, shy." He nuzzles into Jack's ear affectionately, nipping the lobe while continuing to pinch and caress his nipples. It's a rush making Jack moan so _ loud, _ and grind back harder in a desperate attempt to fulfill his instinctive _ need _. Rhys practically feeds off the humiliation Jack feels by what's happening to him. It's intoxicatingly euphoric. "You shouldn't be-- shy that is, because I love your body." 

"Fuck off." Jack moans.

Rhys gets carried away and a little cocky with his power over Jack. He watches Jack through the mirror, slowly spreading his fingers to stretch around Jack's pecks like a starfish. He keeps a steady, hard rhythm with his hips to hold Jack's mind dizzy on lust. Watching him, timing it to catch Jack in the midst of his arousal, Rhys clamps his fingers down around the give of Jack's plush flesh, squeezing hard on his pecs that the fat bulges _ through _ the gaps of his fingers. He bucks his hips and starts humping the older man with consistent slow thrusts. He hums against his neck.

Jack mumbles a string of curses and cocks his neck. "You know I'm gonna have to kill you now?" He grumbles angrily, hands sliding up to the top of the mirror's frame. Rhys keeps thrusting, to Jack's reluctant pleasure. "You've seen too much, kiddo."

"God you're more beautiful than I could have even imagined," Rhys keeps squeezing his plush tits until a thought pops into his head. He daringly slides his hand up to grab Jack's chin and forces him to face the truth of his figure and his string bean boyfriend manhandling him.

Jack glares at Rhys like a wild animal ready to kill, and Rhys has the nerve to give him a wink. He knows he's fine to keep pushing through - Jack's hands are still attached to the mirror frame, not reaching back to rip Rhys to shreds. "You shouldn't layer up so much," Rhys remarks, sliding his fingers up and pressing them against Jack's lips, pleasantly shocked when the older man obliges with no fight to actually takes Rhys' long fingers into his mouth. Finally Jack's body relaxes, his face softens just a touch and his eyes catch the absolute admiration flaring in Rhys'.

Jack sucks on his fingers, twirls his tongue in and out of every gap, lathering them up as much as possible. Rhys pushes his fingers in and out slowly. His other hand slides down to grab the pooch of his stomach, and kneads the doughy flesh. Jack's fat creases with each squeeze, and Rhys watches with a narcissist delight as Jack's eyes cross. He moans around Rhys' digits and finally lets loose just enough to enjoy himself.

God, Rhys is _ feral _ for this image. He imagined his night to consist of his own face pressed into a pillow, Jack's cock pumping in and out at light speed while he spanks him, but what he has is something unexpectedly brilliant. Now he's here, it's Jack who's under a spell, completely contrast to what everyone knows of him. And Jack's body hypnotises him - he belly, his chest, his thick, trunk like thighs just begging to be bitten and sucked... Rhys is agonisingly hard. He can feel the wet patch of his pre-cum spread out more across his boxer shorts. Looking at Jack, he has the same problem. If Jack wasn't already shaky with nerves, Rhys would take his mask off, but it's one step at a time. Instead he kisses his jaw, even licks him like a mother cat.

"Hay, uh...I know this is already _ overwhelming _ enough, but uh, can I..." Rhys swallows down hard, wrapping his arm around him belly. He presses into him harder and grumbles with a moan when he catches Jack's frustrated smirk, still soaking his fingers. "You think we could-" 

"Rhysie," Jack purrs like an angry cat around his boyfriends long fingers, whipping around in a flash to face Rhys. Jack grabs Rhys by the collar and holds him close. All air is sucked out of Rhys by his boyfriends heavy desperation and sharp teeth snarling. "Either stick your dick in me now or die where you stand, cause Handsome Jack doesn't let his guard down for just anybody, and I'll be damned if I don't get fucked after all of this." The evil laugh that follows almost makes Rhys cum on the spot.

He holds his fingers up. They're still glistening wet from Jack's spit. "This enough lube for you?" 

Jack grumbles. "You're a real cocky S.O.B, you know that?" The taller man shrugs. Jack begins unbuttoning his shirt to strip him off. Something stings when he sees how slim he is. 

Rhys knows it too, he can see the pain like a lighthouse beam. Last time he was naked Jack was kissing every inch of his slinky figure, utterly starved to eat him up. Now it's tender, painstakingly slow movements, and jealous eyes. Rhys hates it; hates Jack mourning his fitness.

He decides to speed things up. He wraps his hand around Jack and slaps his ass, pulling him into his chest. The echo bounces between them. "There's a reason everyone calls you _ Handsome _ Jack, you know?" He shakes his hand in the back of Jack's boxers and slips a finger between his cheeks.

Jack shoulder tighten, his neck retracts and he grips Rhys' shoulders tight when he feels the first digit push in to finger him. It's so foreign, so intrusive, but how his belly swells with a hellish heat, he feels so alive. "Because I named myself that...And everyone's afraid I'll kill them if they don't call me it." He buries his face in Rhys' shoulders. He can feel the blush spreading over his face, his chest swelling, and he can't help but curl his toes to compensate for the intrusive pleasure running through his body. His hips thrust instinctively. The size of his cock certainly impresses Rhys too, still trapped in his boxers, thick and bobbing against Rhys' leg as he lets Jack dry hump him.

Rhys pushes Jack back to lean against the mirror and bends down to hook one leg over his hip, pressing his finger in deeper to push against Jack's prostate. Jack almost screams but bites down on Rhys' shoulders instead. Rhys yelps. "Princess..._ fuck-- _ cupcake," Jack pants. He moves to cup Rhys face in his hand. "You can't go surprising me like that. If we wake up Angel after it took me so long to get her to bed...I will kill everyone at Hyperion, mark my words." Rhys rolls his eyes and smiles. 

He looks down and admires how Jack's belly creases where his leg pushes up into the fat. The rolls fold over, the happy trail thick and fluffed, and Rhys just wants to bury his face in the fat. He wants to squish him, shake him - maybe even make him _ bigger-- _ But they're thoughts for another day.

He smirks, pushing his finger in more, squeezing in a second digit to scissor him open. Jack whines and throws his head back on the mirror. He feels a homely warmth watching Jack embrace the pleasure. He leans in to kiss his jawline. "I really do like your body, by the way. Like... genuinely, no bullshit."

"God, shut up, would you?"

Jack's breaths become more laboured. He reaches between them and starts rubbing his cock through his underwear. The motion makes his belly bounce. Rhys rests his face against his chest and fingers him more vigorously.

"Jack, take the compliment will ya?"

Jack growls in frustration. The more he frowns the easier it is for Rhys to see him trying to keep a straight face. Rhys decides he's had enough. He pushes in one last time, as deep and hard as possible to make Jack lose his breath, then pulls out and twirls Jack back around. He holds his hips in place and makes him look at his body. Before Jack can even say anything self loathing, Rhys has his fingers hooped in his boxers to tear them down, and smacks his bare ass to keep him quiet. He strips off the last of his own clothes too.

He kisses Jack's neck and presses his cock against Jack's fat ass. Coarse, long, fingertips give him a good rub down. He grabs the thick weight or Jack's hips and squeezes. "Look at your lovehandles...I want to hold you so tight you’ll feel my prints the next day...I can grab these, and," and slowly pulls one hand back, he aligns his cock to push inside Jack. He mewls softly when he's rewarded with the silky insides of Jack's ass. Jack bites his lip hard and whimpers. He links his hand back to hold Rhys frame. "Just _ fuck _ you good." He finishes through a moan, grabbing his fatty hips hard to be sure his nails leave marks.

He stills his cock inside Jack, circles his hips to really push against his prostate, and rests his chin in Jack's shoulder. The older man looks gorgeous, dazed and blissed out, greying hair falling down his face. Sweat drips down his forehead, and he can see the blush coming through like fire at the edges of his face plate.

"Are you too warm?" Rhys frets, tucking back Jack's hair. Jack groans in frustration and grinds back against his dick, glaring at Rhys' dopey heart eyes through the mirror.

"Stop being soppy, God damn it!" Jack's anger comes off more desperate than he appreciates. Rhys actually snickers under his breath.

"Jack, you don't have to wear your mask when we-"

"Rhysie, _ please _ don't make me beg."

Jack's voice drops so soft that Rhys almost jumps, stunned. Jack's eyes are a former version of their burning selves. His arms drop and return to grip the mirror frame.

"I love your face." Rhys starts moving again, bottoming out just to sink in nice and deep, growling as he enjoys the tightness pulling his cock. "Love how bright your eyes are, your crooked smile." He kisses his jaw line. "Love how your face lights up around Angel."

"Shit, don't bring her up when we're-"

"Jack, shut up." Rhys slams his hips deep, balls hitting hard against Jack's fat ass. The older man whines, heaving as his body shakes with pleasure. His cock bobs heavy between his legs. "Keep talking back and I'll gag you, understood?"

Jack shouldn't laugh but he does. His cute Rhysie, the man who gets tongue tied ordering lunch suddenly finding the nerve to dominate Handsome Jack? Maybe it's all a dream. 

But as he laughs, comically so like a princess movie villain, he feels Rhys grip his dick, slowly pulling back the skin, and rub his thumb under the tip of his head. Cum dribbles out pathetically, but it silences Jack to just shallow breaths. Jack watches Rhys' movements, mouth hanging, and almost loses control when Rhys takes his fingers to his mouth and licks his fingers clean, grinning through the reflection at his shell-shocked lover.

"You taste great," Rhys says under his breath, thrusting again, keeping a soft rhythm while watching Jack intensely. The older man is stunned quiet. "So good Jack. You shouldn't hide your body, ever...I love your belly."

He slips his hand over the taut skin and spreads his hand as wide as possible over the bump, _ squeezing _ , giving it a hearty jiggle to watch Jack's whole body shake. His pecs, hips and thighs alike, moving to the beat of his belly. Rhys chuckles darkly under his breath and kisses Jack's shoulder. "So sexy. You're so... _ unbelievably _ sexy, Jack." His hips start to pick up in speed. Jack's hands tighten on the mirror frame and he nods like a bobblehead toy, agreeing to the nothingness of absent dribble from Rhys' lustful tongue. "God I love that you're chubby."

The word makes Jack whine. He hates it, it feels like acid on his skin. It's a mockery of his hard work, of his power, of his-- 

"Jack, look," Rhys cups his face to look up at his reflection. He directs his eyes to his soft belly. Rhys' other hand massages the pudge. "It's not a bad thing. It's sexy. It's _ natural _ . Couple extra dinner bagels because you're a single dad running on no sleep? It's fine." He rubs the pooch. "I'd almost say weight makes you sexier." Jack huff's out and arches his back. He feels so full - loves to hate the internal humiliation just winding its way around his stomach and giving him shocks. His brain starts wandering to images of Rhys fucking him so deep the tip of his cock outlines against his stomach, and the thought makes him moan _ loud _. He bites his fist.

"Let it out, Jacky," Rhys coos. "God, I don't deserve you..." 

"Sweetheart," Jack pants, haphazardly looking over his shoulder to meet Rhys' face. The angles awkward but he plants a sloppy kiss on his lips, moaning like a whore, and grinds back against him more.

When he pulls back he keeps his forehead pressed against him. His moans now string together like a melody. Rhys picks up speed and grips Jack's fat belly pooch in his hands, squeezing tighter and tighter to leave soft nail marks for later. "Rhysie, I'm so fucking tight-"

"You want to be looser?" Rhys teases, but Jack nods frantically. 

"God, I think you've got me addicted, baby. Might sedate me enough to not curse someone out so much if I just ride you every morning." 

"Just what the doctor ordered, huh?" 

Jack's quiet for a second, then looks at their reflection through the mirror to catch Rhys' wide eyes. He swallows hard and with some struggle starts unhooking the hinges of his mask. He carefully takes it off and hooks it over the corner of the mirror frame. He can't help but duck down, shyly.

But then he looks back at Rhys and smiles like a timid child, and Rhys can't do anything but stare at him in complete obsessed adoration. 

Jack bites his lip and huffs. "Rhys...I want-- shit, I want you to cum on my belly."

Rhys almost loses it then and there.

He contains himself in the excitement and slowly pulls out of Jack to turn him around, again, and starts pumping both their cocks together. The frantic movement makes Jack jiggle. He's got his arms around Rhys' and watches their cocks move together until finally Rhys cums, long, white strips all over his swollen chubby belly, shortly followed by Jack's heavier load spilling over his fist.

The quiet consumes them. Jack's legs turn to jelly and he loses his footing when he hears a whimper in the other room. Rhys catches him and helps him sit on the edge of his bed, kissing his forehead and handing him a towel and wipes. Rhys throws on a sleep shirt and boxers, and unprompted walks out to tend to Angel. Jack falls back against the bed and just breathes heavily. His nerves feel a little shattered, he worries if he jerks too quickly he might cut himself open.

He slowly cleans himself up, cringing as he dips the wipe in his belly button to scoop out the cum, and dries himself off. When he pulls a pair of shorts on, Rhys knocks on the door and walks in with Angel, bouncing her in his hip. She's slowly falling asleep in his arms.

Jack smiles, melting at the sight. Rhys is so natural with her. "I think she just wants to be held for a while." Rhys strokes her hair back and kisses her head. He leans up against the door frame. Jack pushes himself up off the bed but stumbles slightly, wincing in pain.

He inhales sharply, leaning over. He looks up under his eyelashes and catches Rhys' smug expression. "Fuck you." He laughs. "I'm gonna take a 5 minute shower because...you know," and quickly dashes off to properly clean himself up so he can tend to Angel. Rhys wants patiently on the edge of the bed, shifting to hold her against his chest.

When Jack returns he's wearing plaid pajamas and his hair is slicked back from the shower. Rhys smiles lovingly at the sight. Jack leans over to kiss him and takes his little girl when she starts making soft whining sounds against Rhys' chest.

He's grateful she only has a fussy _ second _ rather than the screaming match that can occur when she's disrupted from her sleep. He runs his fingers through her fine hair, stroking her cheek as she snuggles up against Jack's chest. 

Rhys thrives for this Jack. The soft, thoughtful Jack. The man whose smile is like a whisper in a willow tree. How his body relaxes and the deep seated lines in his forehead near to disappear, it makes Rhys weak. From the blood thirsty boss to humble, love struck father, Rhys adores his versatility.

He kisses Jack softly on the cheek. "I meant what I said, you know." His robotic arm links round Jack's waist and he rests his fingers on the side of his swollen belly. "Your body's wonderful." Jack grumbles but surprisingly smiles. His eyes stay on Angel.

"We got swept up in the moment, I get it. Don't gotta lie to me, Rhysie" 

"I'm not." He pulls Jack to lean against him and kisses him tenderly, stroking a thumb along his hip bone. "You're perfect to me, Jack." 

"Ugh, okay," Jack groans, though he does enjoy the attention, begrudgingly. Angel stirs momentarily. "Let me get this little shit back to bed before you get anymore fucking mushy." 

Rhys laughs as he watches Jack walk away. He's almost grateful to know Jack's more human than he wants people to know. He's glad he's more real than "_ hero _".


End file.
